


Mind Your Manners

by ind1go_ink



Series: Fake AH Crew - Power Plays [4]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst, Brief character death, Broken Bones, Explicit Language, Friendship/Love, GTA AU, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mavin, Non-Canon Relationship, Other, Pain, Polyamory, Raychael (only if you squint), Terminal Illnesses, dislocation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 14:30:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3899743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ind1go_ink/pseuds/ind1go_ink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gavin's been off his game for weeks, and the reason why is known only to him.<br/>Until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mind Your Manners

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea. They're all just a mess. It's messy.  
> I'll figure out the timeline later too, by the by. I figure this is after Ira but before Heaven's Out of Reach.  
> Also, other character's backgrounds will be explored soon enough!  
> TW: Homophobic slurs

When Ryan turns to Gavin, his face paint running in unattractive smears across his cheeks, teeth bared in a grimace that mocks a grin, Gavin is suddenly scared. The white gleam of his teeth is stained with pink and his lips are bloody, and the dark patch in centre of his chest, framed by his leather jacket, is growing.

“Fucking hell, Gavin!” Ray cries, sprinting towards Ryan as he collapses. His fall is a graceful one, added to by his height, each joint calmly folding till his head bounces on the concrete.

“Shit man!” Michael is right alongside Ray, grasping at his fallen comrade, and Gavin can only watch as they haul him out of the line of fire.

Geoff’s on his ass in a second, backing out of range of the firefight, leaning into his ear and hissing; “We need to talk afterwards.” before he’s gone, off into the fray again.

Gavin ducks a molotov cocktail, crawling out of the range of the spray before whipping out his disposable phone, dialling the number with trembling fingers.

A second after the tone goes through, the building explodes.

And moments after that, Jack is hauling ass out of there on a motorbike with Ryan slumped over his shoulders, and Ray pressing down hard on the wound in his chest from behind. Leaving Gavin, Michael and Geoff to pull themselves from the rubble, Geoff runs to the SUV and swings the doors open frantically, ignoring the obvious gash on his cheek as it dribbles blood, hurrying Michael and Gavin into the van before they take off.

They’re halfway through Bridge Street when the heavy silence is broken by Geoff.

“What was that back there, Gavin?”  
For the first time in Gavin’s career with the A.H crew, he’s aware of how much he’s fucked up. Michael’s glaring at him from across the back seat, cradling a limp left arm. Geoff’s grip is so tight on the wheel that he looks as though he’s about to rip it off, his voice deadly quiet and controlled.

“What the fuck kind of stunt were you trying to pull?!” Michael jumps in, leaning over, ignoring his damaged arm in favour of punching Gavin directly in the thigh. Gavin curls up, but doesn’t complain. He knows he deserves it.

“Michael, don’t be a dick.”

“He shot Ryan and then blew the place to bits with us still in it!”

"So, what happened? Why the lapse?"

As Gavin recovers, wiping the tears from his eyes, he shrugs. "Just had an off day," He mumbles.

"Bullshit." Geoff’s eyes stare at him coldly through the rearview mirror. "That's ten hundred percent bullshit."

"Fine!" Gavin flings himself back against the seat of his chair, trying to quell the lip that's started to tremble. "It's Dan."

He hears the sharp gasp that leaves Michael at the name and knows he's fucked himself with a red hot iron poker right up the ass.

"What about him?"

"He's sick,"

"What kind of sick?"

"The kind that you don't get up from after three days in bed and some chicken soup!" He's only aware that he's yelled because Geoff swerves slightly, loosing a stark curse and Michael’s right hand grips his arm.

"Sorry." He mutters, looking at Michael when he doesn't let go. His eyes are blazing, face flushed with anger. Gavin bites his lip. He knows Michael has had a thing about Dan since they'd first met. Admittedly they met in a bar fight, throwing punches at each other till Gavin had quietened them down, but that was in the past. So, Michael had said; “It’ll stay in the past. He’s still an asshole.”

It had only gotten worse as Gavin and Michael had gotten closer, because eventually there was a time where they could tell each other everything that had happened in their past, and that was when Gavin had outed himself for the second time in his life. Michael had accepted it with quiet reservation, and two weeks later when they’d been out on the water in their boat, hiding from the cops, he’d kissed him under the moon’s glare.

And from there they’d grown into a friendship that was not quite a friendship. But Gavin still had his fears, doubts and anxieties. Ones that he’d only told Michael about once they were securely involved with each other.

Ones that involved Dan, the first person he’d told he was gay.

The one who’d picked up a knife, and stabbed him in the back with a whispered, horrified; “You’re a fag?”

The one who’d subsequently taken it upon himself to abuse Gavin’s mind and body till he’d run away to Los Santos.

Michael knew all about it. And he knew that Gavin was still hung up on Dan, that he would do anything for the piece of shit.

He knew he’d have to stop him from going back.

So, when Gavin eased his arm out from Michael’s grip, looking out the window with guilt written across his face, Michael sat back and let him speak.

Gavin runs a hand across his face, wincing at the jolts of the car as they sped over potholes. “I need to go back to England for a bit.”

“No.” Michael’s voice is tight, but as Gavin looks over at him, he’s staring out the window. Geoff raises his eyebrow through the mirror, but keeps driving silently. “I’m not letting you go anywhere near him, Gavin.”

“You don’t control me.”

“No, I don’t. But you _know_ how shitty it will be. I bet you when you come back you’ll be a god damn wreck! I can’t let you fucking go!”

“He’s my best bloody friend!” Gavin protests, slapping his hand on the leather seat. At the _snap_ of skin on leather, Michael’s head whips round and Gavin feels his breath hitch in his throat. Michael’s eyes are watery, his neck a blotchy red, his jaw roiling as he grinds his teeth.

“What kind of best friend abuses you for months on end because of your sexuality?” He spits, angrily wiping the tears from his cheeks.

Gavin opens his mouth to reply but Geoff cuts in. “I think you guys should talk about this when we’re back at the base... Where there is privacy.”

“Fine.” Michael mutters, still wiping the tears from his eyes. “My shoulder is fucking dislocated, by the way.”

Gavin couldn’t explain how much it hurt when the silent ‘ _because of Gavin._ ’ rang through the air.

“I’ll get Mica on the line. I’m pretty sure Lindsay won’t want to be tending to her injured husband on her day off.” Geoff teases. He presses a speed-dial number on the input pad on the dashboard, and makes the request to send Mica through to HQ.

Lindsay knew of their advanced state of friendship, something she was fine with as she’d come to the conclusion that Michael was polyamorous, and as it happened, bisexual. But Gavin felt as though him almost blowing up her husband was not an easy-going issue, so he remains silent for the rest of the ride, fingers fidgeting in his lap as Michael and Geoff discuss the semi-success of the heist and what they’d managed to pull.

~

Back at HQ, Ryan is dying.

Mica is doing her best to salvage what she can, but the bleeding is too progressive, the internal bleeding being worst of all. She’s almost ready to leave, knowing there’s nothing she can do, forgetting that in fact the whole reason she was called to HQ was not to deal with a dying man, but to deal with a dislocated shoulder.

He lies in the makeshift gurney, pale as a sheet, with a slight grin on his face. Ray and Jack are sitting on seats facing him, both quiet as they gaze at him, Ray’s leg is bouncing in tandem with the curiously rapid beating of his heart.

“I still have four caps, guys.” He says weakly, noting the withdrawn expressions on Ray’s and Jack’s face. “I’m not dying for real.”

“Yeah,” Ray’s already faint voice drops before he slams his fist against his thigh, standing and stalking out of the room.

“Sorry,” Jack doesn’t move, just stares at him rather blankly.

“What’s got you guys so worried?” Ryan feels the heaviness weigh his chest down like a concrete block, coughs a little to Jack’s immediate alarm, the big guy standing and moving to his side.

“We just hate to watch you die, but we know you’ll be back in five.” Jack says, resting a cool, shaking hand on Ryan’s forehead. The appreciate grunt Ryan makes brings a weary smile to Jack’s face. “Gavin is stupid.”

“No, he’s got things going on. We all have at one point.” Ryan’s voice sounds weaker, but determined. “Remember, when I accidentally chainsawed Geoff’s arm off?”

“Yeah,” The memory makes Jack chuckle, albeit sadly. Geoff had refused to walk around with his arm essentially amputated - _I have a reputation to uphold here, guys. My injury may have been a sloppy mistake, but I’m not walking around where someone can see me_. - and had convinced Jack to put a bullet in his head. It had taken a few minutes longer than normal for him to respawn, but a few minutes was all they needed to doubt the system so that even now, the three Gents had their misgivings about what the caps did and how they brought them back from the dead.

There is silence for a few minutes before they both hear the thud of the door to their living quarters slam open, followed a few seconds later by Michael’s voice, his yelling muffled through the walls but still distinguishable.

“Why the _fuck_ is this even a discussion! You’re _not going_.”

“Fuck you, Michael!” Gavin’s shrill reply means only one thing; he’s on the verge of tears. “I need to go! You don’t own me! I can see Dan if I want!”

“Like fucking hell you’re gonna see him! After what he did to you?! After he-” And here Michael’s voice drops off, rising again a moment later along with another sound. To Jack’s ears, and he knows well what it sounds like - being Gavin’s next door neighbour for four years helps out in that respect, it sounds like Gavin crying. Muffled choked back gasps and a shaking, almost indignant reply flies back at Michael.

“How _dare_ you bring that up again! You’re such a bloody prick!” His voice trails away from the wall, and Jack, once he feels Ryan’s hand limply grip his wrist, realises he’s about to go after Gavin. He remains, though, wincing when Michael flings the door open - about to unleash a whirlwind of word vomit on him when he sees Ryan. He falters in his step, his face clearing of the rage in a single moment.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” He looks at Jack in wonderment before crossing to Ryan’s side. “How you feeling?”

“I’m totally A-Okay.” The sarcasm doesn’t hide the tremor in Ryan’s voice, and he coughs again, taking a rasping breath. Michael’s mouth twists at the sound, his brows furrowing.

“Gavin’s a stubborn prick.” He mutters to himself, taking in the sight of his friend’s papery complexion, the way his hands tremble when he raises them to stop Michael in his tracks.

“He’s got stuff going on.” Ryan says simply, letting his eyes close. Michael huffs.

“You don’t say?”

“I’m… Just about out.” Ryan replies, his voice calm but quiet, on the edge of hearing. Jack takes a seat, head bowed and silent. But Michael stands at the end of his bed, watching as Ryan’s complexion continues to pale, his skin reaching a point where the paleness of his skin looks like he’s never been outside, and yet his skin pales past that, to transparency.

Michael is suddenly glad that his organs and internal things are somehow magically transported, or whatever they do, _before_ his skin does the see-through thing. Now all that is left is an outline of his body, and Jack rises with an ‘ahem’, clasping a hand on Michael’s shoulder before taking his leave.

Michael waits, and waits, and then he hears Ryan’s voice from the kitchen, and it is only then that his right hand’s fingers unclench from the metal bar that serves as a headboard. His left arm still hangs limply by his side. He takes a moment to gather his strength, and grips his left arm, letting out a hiss between clenched teeth before dropping it like he’d grasped a hot iron.

Ray pokes his head in, giving him a bright smile. “Ryan’s back.” He states as though Michael can’t hear them laughing not ten feet away.

“Thanks,” Michael turns back to the bed, not surprised to see the outline gone. He hesitates for a moment, thinking back on how he’d met Ryan.

~

_“You should really mind your manners,” A warm smile accompanied the bite of the words, and Michael glared at the man with the ponytail he’d just run into._

_“I’ll do what I like.” He snapped in return. His day hadn’t been going well, and now to add the cherry to the shit-cake, here he was. Being badgered by someone he didn’t even know. Something kicked in Michael’s brain, though, trying to get his attention._

_“Oh, really?”_

_“Yeah,” He groused, shouldering his backpack higher._

_“All I’m saying is that perhaps next time you should be a little nicer.” The comment wasn’t without it’s fair share of underlying emotions, and Michael took note at the way his voice twisted into a growl at the end of his sentence, but attempted a smile, sidestepping the guy. Whatever was trying to get his attention was jumping up and down now. The man stepped in front of him, the slight smile still etched onto his face._

_“Vagabond!” A voice called, and for Michael the penny dropped._

_“Y-You’re the Mad Mercenary!” He looked into eyes that blazed with joy at the sound of his handle._

_“Damn right,” His grin was all teeth, and Michael stepped back. “Looks like my ride is here.”_

_“Sorry man,” Michael muttered. When he looked over at the other voice, his jaw almost dropped. “Holy shit! That’s Brownman!”_

_“Hey,” The cheeky grin the hitman gave him made Michael clutch at his beanie in excitement._

_“You guys are awesome!” He huffed, moving aside._

_“Well, hey. What can I say?” Brownman chuckled, nodding Vagabond over. “See you, dude.”_

_Vagabond turned before he slid into the sleek jet black car, nodding at Michael. “Mogar.”_

~

A few months later, and they’d been shoved in together on the same hastily put together crew aiming to rob an armoured truck. The heist had gone off without a hitch, and Michael as they screamed away in a inconspicuous red minivan, had whooped and hollered and had later found out that it had all been a test of his skills.

Then he’d been hired into the A.H Crew and everything had changed for the better.

All because of Ryan.

Michael bows his head, letting a small smile tug at his lips before spinning on his heel and walking out of the room, Ray falling into step beside him as they walk to the kitchen.

“So, that was something.” Ray comments.

“Yeah,” Michael huffs out a breath of air through his nose at the thought, wondering how long it’ll take him to break through Gavin’s shell - if he’ll go to England or not. If Michael can convince him to stay. The pain in his left arm is starting to severely throb, nerves grinding against each other, forming little black swimming dots across his vision.

Ray seems to sense his mood. “That stuff…” He starts, only quieting when Michael shoots him a glare, but he doesn’t stop, only waits a few seconds before dragging it to light again. It’s something he’s good at. “With Gavin.” He says meaningfully. “You two okay?”

The crew knew, in some ways, that they were together but not in the relationship sense of the word. Ray, however, knew more than the others did. It wasn’t as though Michael saw him as a confidante, but they were friends, co-workers, next door neighbours. And Michael had his fair share of sleepless nights, and Ray was _always_ there to stay up till three in the morning, either shooting the breeze or having uncomfortably deep conversations about themselves, or life in general.

They were so comfortable with each other that Michael didn’t even hesitate. “No.” He states, turning away from the kitchen - where their friends are - and instead heading to his room. Ray follows, as Michael expects him to, and before they reach Michael’s room, they both pause in the hallway.

There the faint noise of Gavin crying in his room, amid garbled sentences, and Michael’s half sure that he’s calling Dan, or perhaps his mother. He pushes into his room with a barely concealed groan at the spike of pain.

“Help me set my arm,” He utters, nodding to his left arm before shoving his right hand into his mouth. Ray’s eyes darken for a moment, but he gives Michael no time and grips his shoulder and wrist, lifting with a swift jerk and the resulting _pop_ makes Michael bite into his hand, muffling the bellow of pain before sitting heavily, removing his bloody hand from his mouth and spitting into the waste basket.

“Why didn’t you get Mica on it?” asks Ray, sitting beside him with a length of scarf and motioning him to roll his shoulder.

There’s the feeling of distinct grating as he does so, and the pain flares for a moment but its nothing Michael can’t handle, so he lets Ray bind his arm to his chest.

“Just don’t game for awhile.” He pretends to simper over the red-head, brushing a hand through his curls before shoving his head with an impish grin.

“Fuck you,” Michael snips back, giving him a half-hearted smile.

“Oh, you want this?” Ray’s now shaking his ass in Michael’s face, and Michael can only laugh at it, his mind clearing itself of Gavin for a moment. There’s a momentary urge to slap Ray’s ass, just for payback, but he stops himself before he can even start down that line.

Ray settles down, lying back on Michael’s bed. “So, with Gavin…”

He doesn’t even need to ask. Michael sighs, runs his good hand over his face and feels the exhaustion kick in. “He’s got this guy back in England, not. A lover, or nothing. Just, an old friend. But, he can’t be considered a friend. Not with what he did to Gavin.”

Ray always knows when to stay silent, too. It drags out as Michael gives himself time to prepare.

“He used to treat Gavin like shit, when he found out Gavin was gay, and…” He shakes his head to himself, shoulders hunching slightly. “He used to use him, Ray. It got _real_ bad.”

There’s a hum of consideration from the hitman, but he doesn’t say more. He knew about Michael’s past, and Michael knew glimpses of his. Hearing Gavin’s past from someone other than him felt somewhat intrusive, but he could tell Michael wasn’t going further into his explanation.

“I think you should let him go.” He murmurs.

“Why?” Michael flops backwards, ignoring the sting of protest from his shoulder in favour of turning his head to stare at Ray, eyebrows furrowed.

“I think,” began Ray, slowly. “If you let him go, he’ll come to terms with it. He’ll get over it, and never go back. I think Gavin has a lot of unanswered questions that will haunt him unless he sees this guy one more time. Besides, he’s a grown ass man, and a criminal. If he can’t deal to this guy, his crew can, right buddy?”

Michael’s eyebrows stayed furrowed, but the cogs were turning in his head as he mulled it over. There’s a twisted truth in Ray’s words, so Michael relents with a bark of laughter. “Yeah, you’re right.”  
Ray looks pleased with himself, folding his hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling. “Aren’t you glad I’m your best friend?” He teases.

“Sure am.” The sourness of Michael’s tone isn’t missed by Ray, who sits up immediately, cocking his head.

“Yeah?” He draws the word out, pinning Michael with a questioning gaze.

Michael hesitates on the possibility of an omission, but goes ahead with the truth anyway. “You are.” He states.

Because he doesn’t want to admit that perhaps, more recently than ever, he _has_ considered Ray his best friend, and the thought hurts him more than any physical pain could.

~

In his room, Gavin hangs up on his mother, wiping the tears from his eyes with a stubborn sniffle. There’s no way that he’s going to let Michael see or hear him cry.

Sometimes Gavin has to admire his own stupidity. He should never have brought it up, but then again, he _had_ been off his game for the weeks that he’d known Dan was ill. Ill sounded so temporary.

But, cancer? It had that ring of finality to it that crushed his heart in his chest and made it hard to breathe.

It was all the same to him, the technical jargon the doctor had thrown at him made no proper sense. But all his mind had been able to grasp was cancer. And the thought that Dan had requested to see him. Actually asked for him.

He stands, jaw tight with resolution. He’s going, Michael be damned.

Even if this is the last time he ever sees Dan, even if he loses Michael because of this, he needs to know _why_.


End file.
